


Sanguine

by oneunexpected



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Character Study, Family Dynamics, Gregor is barely in this I'm warning you and it's pretty luxa-centric in general, One Shot, Sins of the Father, Worldbuilding, but it's like. some Reflections, calling it a character study would be a stretch, in a general sense, w/e I'm gonna call it one anyway, with just a touch of extrapolation in the form of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneunexpected/pseuds/oneunexpected
Summary: “Tell me, do you often think about the blood that runs through your veins?”A few reflections on family from the series' big three.
Relationships: Gregor Campbell & his family, Luxa & Nerissa (Underland Chronicles), Luxa & Ripred (Underland Chronicles)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: TUC Week, TUC Week 2020





	Sanguine

She found Nerissa in the prophecy room, curled up in the corner, which is about what she had expected.

“Hello, Luxa,” she said, raising her head from where it rested on her knees. “What brings you here?”

“I… simply wanted to talk to you,” Luxa responded with a little sigh, feeling a little self conscious as she strode over and settled onto the ground next to her cousin. “Today, I have not been able to stop thinking about my parents. Or yours, for that matter.” Or Hamnet. Or Henry. Or Solovet. “I was speaking with one of my advisors this morning, and he remarked suddenly I was making a face that resembled one my father would make. And I know that is a small and silly thing to be worked up about, yet I have not been able to put any of them out of mind since.” Especially her father. Despite his status, he didn’t come up often around her in anything other than discussions of Regalia’s past policy decisions; on the other hand, everyone was always talking about Judith, how much she looked like Judith, how much she reminded them of her. But she missed her father just as much.

Nerissa said, “Some days are much harder than others, and sometimes there is no rhyme nor reason for why it is such.” Luxa nodded, and Nerissa continued in a softer voice, “I find myself missing them often as of late. Looking at this new world they did not get to see.”

Yes, that was precisely it. Luxa leaned her head against the wall behind her and shut her eyes, trying not to think about the words chiseled just feet from her that had foretold her parents’ deaths.

“Tell me, do you often think about the blood that runs through your veins?” Nerissa suddenly asked, and Luxa opened her eyes. Does she? She thinks about her father, sitting in front of the fire, playing pretend with her and her dolls, knowing he was running late for a meeting. Her mother, loading them up onto her bat and taking her to visit York and Susannah’s home at the Fount for the first time. Hamnet, bringing her to the crystal beaches. Nerissa and Henry running through the festivals with her, barefoot, inseparable. Their father, her uncle, teaching her how to dance, letting her step all over his feet, while her aunt looked on and laughed and laughed and laughed. She thinks of Stellovet’s cunning, Miravet’s tough love, Howard’s steadfast kindness, Hazard’s desire for understanding. She thinks of all of it, she  _ is _ all of it.  _ That’s _ what pumps through her veins. But she carries other things, too. Her father’s achievements and failures as king, her mother, so often wishing to create change but unable to intercede. Vikus, torn apart by knowing what had to be done but in the dark as to how to do it. Solovet, her unrelenting onslaught towards what she saw as security, as justice, as revenge. The horrible, horrible things her family has done, the lives they have taken. 

She thinks about how many of them she’s lost. Part of her thinks about the way Gregor reached out when he and his family were hugging in the hospital. She remembers how cruel it felt to be invited into the family of people who would be gone forever in a matter of days.

Oh, yes, Luxa thinks about blood. Luxa thinks herself sick about blood.

“Yes,” she stated simply, “and only you would ask such a question,” she added with a teasing smile.

“Good,” Nerissa responded, and she leaned her head onto her little cousin’s shoulder. “It is good—and important—for you and I to understand where we come from. To remember.”

They were quiet for a minute until a knock came from the wooden door of the prophecy room, and a servant poked his head in.  “Forgive me interrupting, your highness, but we have been searching for you. Ripred has arrived for your meeting.”

“And I am sure he is quite impatient to begin,” Luxa grumbled, “as seeing the sooner we have finished, the sooner he gets dinner. Very well.” She stood up and turned to Nerissa. “We can speak again later.”

* * *

Ripred and Luxa are done bickering for the evening, and Ripred is ecstatic, because that means food. They had decided early on after the war, after a particularly tense night in which Ripred ended up wearing mashed potatoes, that when a meal was served, they would quit politicking and enjoy their meal. Usually, it was pretty pleasant, and when one-on-one, the bonds had a rather fun time gossiping about what they had heard from so-and-so about so-and-so. But tonight, Luxa was quiet as she picked at her plate.

“What’s going on, Your Majesty? Bat got your tongue?” Ripred inquired through a mouthful of shrimp.

“Gregor once told me, while all of us thought you were dead, that he had once heard you say that you thought of your family every day.”

Ripred pauses mid chew. “That’s a weird response, Your Highness.”

“I am sorry,” Luxa sighs, pushing her plate away and sliding down in her chair. “I think of mine every day. Sometimes, though, I think I think too much about them, and it makes it rather hard to function.”

Well, Ripred could understand that. And it was true, he did think of his mate and pups every single day. Once he had resolved to change things, it’s what had kept him going.

“I see. Anything in particular… making today particularly hard to function?”

Luxa pulls her plate back in towards her and says, “This will sound odd, but it is only because this morning, an advisor told me I was making a face that reminded him of my father. I have not been able to get anything off of my mind since. I suppose it is in part because I am so seldom compared to him. He seems so seldom talked about around me, in fact, at least in any significant way.” She looked up at him. “Do you think he and I are similar?”

Ripred chuckled. “Oh, yes. You both had the same penchant for mischief, I’ll have you know.” Luxa raised her eyebrows. “Oh, surely you’ve heard of his exploits in his youth!”

Luxa shrugged. “A few, I suppose. Sometimes my mother would tell me stories. Occasionally, he would allude to certain things, but he would never go in depth. I suppose he did not want to set a bad example,” she added with a smirk.

“Well, I assure you, there’s plenty more to be told. Ask Vikus. Or maybe not. Those sorts of stories usually make him shake his head and start muttering about how he could have let his daughter marry such a rascal. Anyways, there’s that, and you certainly do make his facial expressions the same way. Especially when you're mad. You set your jaw the _exact_ same way when you’re pissed.” She takes much more after her mother than her father physically, of course, who herself was a pretty even blend of her parents’ features. Vikus’ eyes and Solovet’s mouth, he had always noticed. Most of Luxa and Judith’s characteristics could be traced back to either one of them specifically like that, except maybe their trademark half smiles. Those seemed to be a mix.

“You’re both stubborn as hell. Though, your mom was, too, so you were rather doomed in that regard. And, well… what you did for the gnawers? Your father would have done that.”

Luxa sits up and resumes eating. “I suppose that’s good to hear.”

“It’s a pretty high compliment, Your Highness.” Ripred has a wealth of complaints about the way Luxa’s father ruled, but he always admired his loyalty and devotion.

He thinks briefly about his own parents. Gnawer parenting can be particularly involved or rather paws-off, depending on the parents. His parents preferred the latter style. He knew it was born from a place of what they saw as necessity; many parents would kick their pups out of their nests only a few weeks after they were named (and sometimes, even before) with the hopes it would make them harden enough to survive the world around them, and Ripred was one of them. Well, being a rager certainly helped in his case. But he never saw his parents or his littermates again. Then again, that was only some gnawers. Raising his own pups? Almost a complete reversal of that. And he knew it could make things ugly if one mate wanted to parent one way and the other the opposite way, notably in the case of Goldshard and Snare. But she was a fool to choose him in the first place, and she learned that quickly.

“So, what have you been thinking about? In regards to your family?” Ripred asked, more to pull himself out of his thoughts than anything.

“Today? Everything, it seems. My childhood, our shared traits, our failures, the blood on our hands. How much I miss those who are gone.”

“Ah. Well...” Ripred paused. “There are days like that. Some days it’s nice to reminisce, and others it hits you like an avalanche, no matter how long it’s been. There’s no accounting for it. It’s the best you can do just to push through.” He scoops up another pawful of shrimp. “But you know… you know, there’s not much good that can come from worrying about ‘the sins of the father’ or whatever you'd like to call it for too long. You know that no matter how you were raised or what you inherited, you are still in control of what  _ you _ do, and that’s about as much as you can ask for.”

“I know this. But still, the good, the bad, everything in between: It is important to remember.”

Well, he supposed that was true. It was very important to remember.

* * *

Hundreds and hundreds of miles away, it was game night for the Campbells. They were sitting in a circle, hunched over a board and pieces, the sound of laughter peeling through the warm farmhouse. On nights like these, Gregor would look around with a grin, drinking in the sight of his parents and sisters, still together after all they’d been through, after all the countless times they had almost lost one another. Nothing else mattered in that moment, not school, not scars, none of it. Gregor felt nothing but lucky. He had his flesh and blood surrounding him, and so, all was well.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Happy TUC Week!
> 
> tumblr - oneunexpected


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